


Our Mistakes They Were Bound to be Made

by tiedyepieinthesky



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (Relatively) happy ending, Alcoholism, Angst, Arguing, M/M, Season 12 (approximately between episodes 2 and 3)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2016-10-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 20:29:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8415613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiedyepieinthesky/pseuds/tiedyepieinthesky
Summary: The dust has settled, and Cas tells Dean that he wants to go help Heaven rebuild.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from Sleeping At Last's "I'll Keep You Safe," a beautiful song which I highly recommend.
> 
> There may be slight divergences from the canon, but nothing major.

“Cas, can you please just calm down?”

“Absolutely not, Dean.  I have been trying to explain this to you for hours, and you still fail to understand the importance of it.”

Dean laughs without humor.  “Are you saying  _ my  _  priorities are skewed?  Cas, you’re trying to go off and fight for a place that brainwashed you, tried to kill you so many times, and ultimately left you flat on your ass.”

Cas’s cheeks burn red, but his voice remains even.  “Most of those things were my fault, Dean, and you know it.”

“It doesn’t fucking matter, Cas!  What do you stand to gain from risking your life to try and save a place that doesn’t want your help?”

“They’re my family, Dean,” Cas hisses.  “I can’t just abandon them because they don’t want me.  I thought you of all people would understand that.”   


Dean bites his lip and leans back in his chair, suddenly finding renewed interest in his hands.  He thumbs lightly over the scar that runs from his knuckle to his wrist, the one Cas kissed just last night, and yet, it feels like years have passed since those soft lips grazed his skin.

“Cas, I just—”

But the angel was gone.

“Goddammit!” Dean curses and shoots out of his chair.  

The bunker is silent now.  Sam and Mary went to go get groceries, but that was hours ago, and it’s clear that they just left to avoid the fighting.  

The tension in his shoulders evaporates just as quickly as it came, the immense anger he felt replaced with an emptiness that he did not expect.  

With Chuck and Amara in the wind, there’s a new struggle for power in Heaven.  Just like Dean’s argument with Cas, it’s nothing new, but guaranteed to be brutal.

Dean heads back to his room, but when he opens the door, he sees the bed still unmade, strange how just this morning, everything was fine.  Cas’s side is practically immaculate, and the picture Sam took of the two of them laughing stares at him from the bedside table. 

He shuts the door quickly and heads back to the kitchen.  The moment he crosses the threshold, his tongue feels too dry and that familiar ache in the pit of his stomach makes its presence known.  Ever since the shit with Amara went down, he hasn’t had anything harder than beer.  Cas has been home, Mary and Sam are back.  The only wrinkle has been Lucifer, but until recently, he’s been too preoccupied with Sam’s disappearance to insist on being involved.  

But now he’s all alone with his thoughts and Cas’s words echoing in his ears.

_ “They’re my family.” _

Sam made a point to toss out all the bottles of whiskey stashed around the bunker, but Dean knows for a fact that he missed at least one.  Mechanically, almost as if his body took over for his mind, Dean sinks to the floor and rummages through the bottom cupboard, pushing aside unused pots and pans until his fingers strike cool glass. 

_ Bingo _ .

He eases the bottle out of the cupboard and holds it in front of him for a moment.  The amber liquid sloshes.  He knows he should put it back.  

_ “They’re my family,”  _ rings in his ears.

“And here I thought I was your family, Cas,” Dean murmurs.  

He loosens the cap and raises the bottle to his lips, not even flinching as it burns his throat and begins his descent into oblivion.

 

Sam and Mary come home around eight that night, long after Cas has left.  Sam opens the door slowly and calls out that he’s home as a warning to the bickering couple inside.  Expecting to hear screams in return, he’s pleasantly surprised to find that the only voice in the bunker is his own.  

“Dean?  Cas?  Where are you guys?” 

He kicks the door shut after Mary slips in and walks toward the kitchen.  At first, he doesn’t notice anything amiss.  The living room is exactly how he left it, but when he reaches the kitchen, a sinking feeling settles over him.  The floor is strewn with dishes, some broken, some stacked precariously, as well as empty bottles, mostly whiskey, but he also sees at least one bottle of vodka.

“Oh my God,” Mary says, falling into step beside him.  “What happened here?”

Sam doesn’t hear her; he’s already dropped the bags and is running through the house.

“Dean!”  he yells.  “Where are you!”

He checks Dean’s room, in which he finds a bed stripped of all the sheets and blankets and a broken picture frame on the floor.  He checks his own room, in which the drawers of the dresser and nightstand have been pulled out and overturned; he rushes to the closet where he hid a bottle of Jack Daniels, but Dean’s already gotten to it.

“Shit,” he curses, running past Mary and to the garage.  The Impala, naturally, is untouched.  

“What is happening?” Mary demands.  “Is Dean okay?  Do you think something got through the warding?”

“No, I don’t think anything got through, but we need to find him.  Now.  You check the library; I’m going to check the filing rooms.”

Mary doesn’t need to be told twice.  She shoots back into the house calling Dean’s name, and Sam runs in the opposite direction doing the same thing.

He pushes the shelves away to check the corners of the room, even the demon trap where Dean sat with a pitch black stare just two years back, but it’s untouched.  Sam cards his hand through his hair, frantically trying to think of where Dean would have gone.

“Sam!” Mary calls, her voice shaking.  “He’s here.”

Sam sprints to the library, nearly colliding with Mary when he bursts in.  

Dean is lying on the floor, on the verge of unconsciousness, a nearly empty bottle of vodka under one arm, and a book about summoning spells in the other.

“Sammy,” he slurs when his eyes settle on the figure in the doorway.  “I borrowed your drink, I hope you don’t mind.”   


“That’s fine, Dean.  Just give me the vodka, and we’ll go get you cleaned up.”

“I don’t even like vodka,” Dean admits as he allows himself to be hoisted up by his little brother.  “But most of those other bottles were almost empty, and I still could hear him talking.”

“Hear who talking?” Sam asks, straining as he practically drags Dean past a slack-jawed Mary.

“Cas.  He left, Sammy.  Why’d he leave me?”

“He probably just needed some fresh air.  He’ll be back soon.”

“No, he’s gone.  Sammy, I let him leave, and now he’s gone.”

“It’s okay, Dean.  He’s going to come back.  He always does.” 

Sam nudges the door open with his foot and pulls Dean into his room.  “Just lay down here, Dean.  I’m going to go clean up your room, then we’ll find Cas.”

“Mhmm, Sammy.  Sounds good.”

The moment Dean’s head hits the pillow, he’s out cold.  Sam throws his comforter over him before turning out the light and gently shutting the door.

He finds Mary sitting at the table, staring blankly into space, the bags under her eyes even more prominent in the dim light.

“What the hell was that?” she asks when Sam settles across from her.

Sam runs through the ways he can explain this but fails to find one that puts it gently.

“Mom,” he begins slowly.  “Dean is an alcoholic.”

“What?” Mary blurts.  

Sam nods, giving her a moment to process before continuing.  “It’s gotten worse as the crises have, but he’s been better recently.  Until today, he and Cas have been so happy that it didn’t seem like he was even thinking about it, but I guess he had those bottles hidden all over the house, so who knows how well he’s really been.”   


Mary rests her gaze on her clasped hands, looking remarkably like her sons.

“What can I do?” she says at last.

Sam starts to say nothing, but he catches the glint of desperation in Mary’s eye and asks if she’ll help him clean up and search for any remaining bottles.

She nods eagerly, and Sam is grateful not to have to face it alone.

 

Mary retires around three in the morning when the bunker is finally back to the way they left it.  She plants a kiss on Sam’s cheek and squeezes his shoulder lightly before going down the hall, poking her head into Sam’s room, then disappearing into her own.

Sam, too wired from the day’s activities, collapses onto the couch, his limbs aching with exhaustion, but his mind racing.  Besides, his bed is occupied, and he has nowhere to go.

He pulls out his computer and scrolls through the local news, hoping to find a case he can work tomorrow to get his mind off the madness of the day and to get away from the hungover pissy mess that Dean will inevitably be.

_ Dammit, Cas.  What did you do to him?  _ Sam wonders bitterly.  

“Where is he?” 

Sam’s head snaps up to find Castiel standing in front of him.

“Shit, Cas!  You can’t sneak up on me like that.”

“You called for me.  Something’s wrong with Dean?”

Sam’s forehead wrinkles.  “What?  No I didn’t—oh.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s in my room, but he’s—”

Cas is already gone.

 

He opens the door and finds Dean fully clothed and fast asleep.  His hair is mussed and his breath reeks of cheap alcohol and vomit.  His face is contorted, and he tosses wildly, occasionally muttering words that Cas can’t make out.

Cas kicks off his shoes and slides off his coat and jacket before lying down beside Dean.  Gingerly, he wraps his arm around him and pulls him tighter.  At first, Dean struggles, pushing him away and whispering “No”.  Cas tightens his grip, cooing and gently caressing Dean’s face.  

“I’m right here,” Cas says softly.  “I’m not leaving.”

It takes a while, but Dean eventually relaxes, burying his face in Cas’s chest.  Cas runs his fingers through Dean’s hair and kisses his forehead.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Cas breathes.  

And he means it.

 


End file.
